


Seven (or Thirty) Minutes in Heaven

by Snortinglaughter



Series: Short Stories of the Kinky Sort [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Drinking Games, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Lace Panties, Lingerie, M/M, Seven Minutes In Heaven, Stockings, Truth or Dare, Veritaserum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snortinglaughter/pseuds/Snortinglaughter
Summary: When I posted this on Tumblr, I had no idea it was Rheya's birthday, so when she told me I justhadto write a sequel.Prompt 39: Lingerie.Requested by:rheya1864.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I posted this on Tumblr, I had no idea it was Rheya's birthday, so when she told me I just _had_ to write a sequel.
> 
> Prompt 39: Lingerie.
> 
> Requested by: [rheya1864](https://rheyaq864.tumblr.com).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firewhiskey and Truth or Dare could be the worst or best combination ever, Harry wasn't sure, but he would find out tonight.

_“Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug,”_ they all chanted, watching as Ron forced four cauldron cakes into his mouth.

  
The Eighth years were all gathered in front of the fireplace, sitting either on the sofas and chairs or on the floor in the Common Room, and playing Truth or Dare. Ron had accepted Seamus’ dare—stuff the cauldron cakes in his mouth and whistle ‘A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love. Harry knew all along he would succeed, he was dating Zabini after all, and the bloke had a _‘big’_ reputation.

  
It was Ron’s turn to ask next, and Harry was sure he would choose him, but to his surprise, he chose Malfoy. Harry silently watched the exchange.

  
“Truth or Dare, ponce?” Ron asked, wiping the crumbs of chocolate off his mouth with the back of his hand.

  
Malfoy squinted at him, probably trying to read his intentions.

  
“Truth,” he said, and Ron’s lips quirked up into a triumphant smile. “Who’s your secret crush?”

  
Malfoy’s jaw clenched, and for some unknown reason, Harry’s heart started beating faster. Malfoy wouldn’t be able to lie, the drops of Veritaserum they had all taken—which bottle Seamus had ‘borrowed’ from Slughorn’s dungeon—would not allow them to. Something like curiosity, but not quite, burned in Harry’s chest.

  
“I won’t say it, Weasel.” Malfoy’s eyes were looking up to the ceiling to avoid everyone else’s, a blush rapidly tinting his cheeks.

  
“That’s quite alright, but you know the rules,” Ron said. “If you don’t answer to Truth, you get a Dare.”

  
Harry noticed the mischievous look he exchanged with Zabini.

  
“Oh, no,” Hermione whispered beside Harry.

  
“Fine,” Malfoy drawled, rolling his eyes. “I’m not shoving anything into my mouth, though. I do have a gag reflex, unlike you, much to your boyfriend’s delight.”

  
Ron wiggled his eyebrows, his smile never faltering as he sat on Zabini’s lap. “Malfoy, I dare you to transfigure your underpants into Pansy’s most _raunchy_ lingerie, and wear them for the rest of the night.”

  
“Good one, love,” Zabini said into Ron’s ear.

  
Well, fuck.

  
Several of them wolf-whistled, Pansy squealed excitedly, Hermione face-palmed, and Dean murmured “oh, yum,” earning himself a death glare from Seamus. But Harry could do nothing more than swallow as his face grew fiercely hot, imagining how Malfoy would look like wearing some lacey garment, or maybe silk. If he hadn’t been so busy hiding his growing erection under a cushion, he would’ve noticed the smug smile Ron directed his way.

  
“You can always say no,” Neville said, and Harry kind of hated him for it. “But you’d have to drink.”

  
He lifted the firewhiskey bottle he was holding, but Malfoy had already risen to his feet.

  
“I won’t back out of a stupid dare,” he said, his chin proudly up, and pulled Pansy by the wrist. “C’mon, Pans.”

  
“Oh, darling, I have a nice blue set that’ll look wonderful with your skin.”

  
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked in a low murmur as everyone else broke into conversation.

  
“Me? Yeah. Why–er, why wouldn’t I?” Harry’s crotch couldn’t disagree more, but he couldn’t just say aloud that the thought of Malfoy in lingerie was making the back of his neck sweat, could he?

  
“No reason,” Hermione answered, turning away to share a sufficient smile with Millicent.

  
Malfoy and Pansy were back after some minutes that felt like an eternity for Harry, but to his disappointment— _wait, what? Disappointment?_ —Malfoy was still fully dressed.  
  
“Oi, hold the phone! How do we know you’re really wearing it?” Dean asked.  
  
Malfoy gave him the nastiest of looks before slightly lifting his shirt up, and pulled a side of his pajama bottoms a little below his hip bone. Sheer, navy-blue, flower-patterned lace adorned his hip, and Harry’s jaw nearly dropped.  
  
“Fuck.” It had spilled from his lips, against his own will, before anybody else could say anything.  
  
All eyes turned to him. Some faces had raised eyebrows, some amused or knowing smiles. But Harry noticed none of them, for he only had eyes for Malfoy, who was looking back into Harry’s.  
  
“Oh, and he has some pretty stockings that match with that,” Pansy was so kind to inform.  
  
Seconds ticked by in total silence as they all stared at Harry and Malfoy, waiting for something– _anything_ to happen. Then suddenly, Parvati clasped her hands together.  
  
“I am utterly _bored!_ Who wants to play seven minutes in heaven?”  
  
As if they had been waiting for someone to suggest exactly that, both Harry and Draco immediately raised their hands, their gazes locked together.  
  
“I guess we know who’s the first couple to go in,” Millicent murmured.  
  
An image of soft fabric covering Malfoy’s long legs flashed through Harry’s mind, and his raging hard-on jerked against the cushion.  
  
“Yeah,” he whispered with a nod. “Can we make it _thirty_ minutes in heaven, though?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firewhiskey and Truth or Dare was the worst combination ever, as far as Draco was concerned. But spending (more than) Seven Minutes in Heaven with Potter would spin the night around.

Longbottom’s maniac grin and Millicent fiercely snogging Granger was the last thing Draco saw before the doors were closed.

 

His heart was drumming in his ears, muting every other sound. He had been so sure he wanted to do this when the Lion Patil had suggested it, but now that he was inside the wardrobe with Potter, he didn't know what to do with himself. It was hot, dusty, it smelled a bit like mould, and it was so dark he couldn't see a thing.

 

Draco’s palms were clammy with sweat and he rubbed them off on his pajama bottoms. Just when he opened his mouth to say something, he felt fingers brushing against his left arm. They slid up to his shoulder, then down his chest, and when he felt a warm breath ghosting over his chin, his heart seemed to stop altogether.

 

He closed his eyes, trying to visualize Potter in his mind, and raised a hand to where he thought his face was. His fingertips brushed the tip of Potter’s nose, then his lips, and then he cupped his face with both hands. He felt Potter’s arm circle around his waist, pulling him closer, and they accidentally bumped their foreheads.

 

_“Ow!”_

 

“Sorry,” Potter mumbled. “I'm so sorry, I just–it's so dark and I can't see a thing and I–”

 

“Potter,” Draco interrupted, still cupping his face and tilting it back.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Draco closed the distance between them. His lips connected to the corner of Potter’s mouth and Potter kissed back, searching to kiss him fully on the lips. It had started clumsy and a bit too quick, but as they both relaxed and let their jitters melt away, the kiss evolved, turning soft and slow. Nothing could have felt more glorious than Potter’s hands sneaking under his shirt, than Potter’s hair between Draco’s fingers.

 

Potter caught his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly ran his tongue over it, and then _sucked._ Draco was fucking lost after that. He pushed Potter against the wardrobe’s wall, both of them groaning as their hands desperately ran up and down each other’s bodies. He paid no mind to the whooping sounds coming from outside, all his senses concentrated on Potter’s lips, his hands, his moans, their cocks brushing against one another. Draco broke the kiss only to nibble at Potter’s ear and jaw.

 

“ _God,_ Malfoy, Iwannaeatyouhole.”

 

 _“What?"_ Draco froze, his lips against Potter’s collarbone, not sure of what he had just heard.

 

“I-I said I–” Potter stuttered nervously. “I want to eat you whole. You know, like, all of you. What did you…”

 

Draco felt his cheeks on fire and he huffed at his own randy stupidity.

 

“Malfoy, did you–”

 

“No.”

 

“Did you think I said ‘eat _your_ _hole’_?”

 

Draco groaned, relieved that it was dark and Potter couldn't see him. His face, ears and neck surely were so brightly red he could put Godric Griffindor to shame.

 

“I mean, I'm not opposed,” Potter murmured, running his hands to Draco’s hips.

 

Well, that was unexpected… but not unwelcome.

 

Potter gave him a sweet peck on the lips, on his forehead, the tip of his nose, his lips again, kissing the embarrassment away. And then he tugged at Draco’s pajama bottoms, reminding him of the lingerie he had nearly forgotten he was wearing.

 

“Can I touch these?” Potter asked, and Draco, feeling braver than ever—or rather more horny than ever—pulled his bottoms down, took Potter’s hands and guided them toward his arse.

 

The warm touch against his skin sent what felt like fireworks up his spine, and they were kissing again, with Potter massaging his arse cheeks and Draco grinding his crotch against Potter’s. Moans and whimpers were ripped from their throats, chests were sucked and licked at. The friction of their covered cocks was becoming too much but not enough at the same time.

 

“ _Draco,_ can I feel it?”

 

Whatever he was asking for, Draco wanted to give it to him. He nodded and moaned harder when he felt Potter tugging his joggers down, his bare cock hot against Draco’s lower belly. He tried taking the lace knickers off, but Potter stopped him.

 

“No,” he whispered in the dark. “I want to feel it.”

 

A wave of lust washed over Draco. With a fierce growl, he pinned Potter, entwining their fingers together, sucking at a spot below his earlobe as they rolled their hips.

 

“I wish I could see you,” Potter said, panting. “Wish I could spend the whole night admiring your gorgeous body in these knickers.”

 

“You can… you will, Harry,” Draco promised.

 

He moaned louder still at the mention of his given name, and hot wetness splashed against Draco’s belly, trickling down to his covered cock. The thought of making _Harry_ climax just by rubbing against him, of Harry wanting and desiring him so much… it pushed him over the edge. His orgasm hit him, splotches of come joining Harry’s, leaving the knickers soaking wet.

 

Draco remembered their surroundings as their breathing slowly evened out, and he felt the swiping cold of a _Scourgify_ before his face was peppered with kisses. Now the only had to walk out of the wardrobe and face the stupid smirks and smug looks for the others.

 

But when they opened the doors, the Common Room was deserted. A single parchment was left spell-o-taped on the back on the nearest chair.

 

 

_Ferret and Potty:_

 

_We left five minutes after you went in. Ron is smug as fuck because his plan worked and he went off to Blaise’s dorm to celebrate with a nice shag. Unfortunately this means you, Draco, don’t have a place to sleep in. But fortunately, Harry, you have your dorm for yourself. We think you can work it out._

 

_Love,_

_Eighth Year Common Room._

 

Bless them, Draco thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ♡


End file.
